


Empress Head

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Guys Win, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Hair Braiding, Implied ephebephilia, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey Palpatine, Slavery, Soft Femdom, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: Long ago, in a galaxy far far away, there was a girl. She was the most beautiful there ever was.Behind her stood Benjamin. Benjamin was a gift.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	1. how does she get beneath my skin

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo! I am tryin to write a second chapter to bastard bride n a v important chapter for LL, but while i research medieval history n furries  
> pls enjoy a v funny idea of spoiled princess Rey (it gets sadder later but lets not think about that for now) :3

Long ago, in a galaxy far far away, there was a girl. She was the most beautiful there ever was. Long limbs, alabaster skin, a narrow and impassive face with small, dark eyes. The star burned, the sun rose, the morning dawned on green Spintir by her grace.

This morning would be the day before her eighteenth birthday, the day she would become a woman. Her grandfather, the Emperor, had such plans in store for her. It was to be a day of promise, of fulfilling the destiny she was born to.

The thought soured in her stomach. This year, she was not to have the large birthday celebration she wished with her friends — Mother had been clear on that front. Rey sat before the mirror on her divan, waiting for fifteen minutes to pass. It took fifteen minutes for her daily regiment of ointment to burn away the ugly line of freckles that ran across the bridge of her nose. There was an insistent tugging at her scalp. Her rosy lips pursed, and she breathed a long sigh; the tugging ceased. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” she snapped, before grabbing a small green grape from the lacquered bowl at her side and pushing it into her mouth.

The only man allowed to see her hair unbound, besides her father and her future mate, would be her slave, Benjamin. He was a tall and quiet creature, his face an amusing collection of mismatched features: a large nose, a smattering of moles, wide lips, two large eyes. After Rey spared him another scolding, he carefully resumed his task of combing her glossy, hazel tresses for the purpose of braiding.

Rey took another grape from the bowl, then broke its thin skin between her teeth. She wondered what Grandfather would have in store for her. Though they met once a year, she couldn’t help the undercurrent of fear and anticipation she felt in his presence. The man was just too old, unnaturally old, virtually a corpse on a throne puppeteered by the Dark side. It seemed the Sith only die if they’re killed by their apprentices, and there was no Darth Vader left.

Rey picked up another grape, only this one had a defect. Her dainty nose crinkled as she probed a soft brown spot between her fingertips. “Ben,” she cooed. He stopped combing, as she turned and held the grape towards him. His nostrils flared.

Hesitantly, Ben lowered his head to accept his treat. Tendrils of his dark, thick hair fell over his face, obscuring his expression. She could only feel the gentle brush of his lips and the heat of his breath on her wrist, before he straightened himself. Rey turned her face towards the mirror, to judge for herself whether the freckle-scum had been eliminated. Grandfather loved to see her looking her best and most radiant self, Mother said. That was why she had to rouge her lips, pluck her eyebrows, and darken her eyes for the old man, since the tender age of nine. A tomboy phase was quickly extinguished. Behind her, the combing resumed.

When Grandfather first gave her Benjamin, she had thought it was some sort of dismissal. What ten-year-old wanted an ugly, sad boy twice her age on her birthday? Her friends had been given TIE-fighters and moons for their birthdays. All of them were attended by servants and slaves, but none of those were ever given as a sorry excuse of a gift. The love a family has for their child is directly related to the cost of their birthday gift, and so it was clear Grandfather did not think very much of her.

Then later came the knowledge, of what Benjamin was. So perhaps Grandfather did hold something in store for her, something grand to mark her adulthood before the entire galaxy — to smooth her eventual ascendency to the Empress’ seat once Grandfather passed on.

There was rumor... Darth Vader was gone, but he had left a legacy of a sort: some yet unseen wound that visibly weakened the Emperor a fraction of each passing day. Had he not been declining? From her limited intelligence, all he seemed to do was sit in his chair, and speak in his sandpaper voice, and occasionally shoot a little Force lightning from his fingertips to brighten up a slow evening.

The reflection of Rey smiled, despite the ugly red streak across the bridge of her nose. She squeezed a little tube of cream out onto her index finger, and smoothed it over the inflamed skin. In a few moments, her skin would be freckle-less, and then she would apply foundation and blush to give herself that flawless, even complexion fit for an Empress-to-be.

That day, the skies above were so clear and blue, that all of Spintir could see the Supremacy hovering above the atmosphere. What surfaces faced the sun reflected white, whereas the rest of the ship were colored shades of light blue to dark navy, as though it were the reflection of a dreadnought projected upon the sky.

Rey forgot herself and released a small gasp, before raising her hand over her mouth. The retinue of servants surrounding her did not seem to notice. They would not be going with her, and instead cared for the compound on Spintir in her absence. Only Benjamin had the honor of following his mistress. In his hands, he carried the pyramid-shaped wayfinder, which he cradled against his chest.

They were received by a transport ship, which took them off of the surface of the planet to that beautiful and terrible ship above their heads. Once on board, the welcoming party consisted of a General Armitage Hux, and Stormtrooper Captain Phasma.

General Armitage Hux was a tall man, with a shock of red hair. He cut a neat figure in the black uniform of the First Order; and there was a quick deliberateness in the way that he moved: the way he bowed to her, the way he smartly took her hand and kissed its surface. His bright green eyes betrayed all of his feelings, and the tone of his words voiced his intent: “It is an honor to host yourself aboard my ship. A lady has a... civilizing effect on the men of a warship.”

Captain Phasma removed her helm for the occasion, shaking free a head of platinum-blonde hair cut close to her scalp. She was taller than her compatriot, and broader in her full set of white armor. She bowed too to the girl, with a slowness like a display of power: this was her ship, and these were her multitudes of Stormtroopers.

Rey sensed a mild slight from these two, but she let it go. On every planet or dreadnought or planet-destroying weapon, she was left always in the presence of these little ants. The ants on Spintir were pricklier than the ants on the Supremacy; she could feel their hostility and hunger, their doubt, their illusion of supremacy aboard their very large and very scary ship. This ugly, unseen mass licked and nibbled upon the surface of her skin through the Force. Sometimes she hated being a Palpatine.

On that night, Rey celebrated her last day of being a seventeen year old child by sulking in her rooms. She had wanted to see her friends — her friends who had normal parents who held at least ten days of parties for their birthdays. Bazine’s father had just bought her a whole forest planet with a club on it, and Rey hadn’t gone yet even though she was invited. Bazine was a bitch and a nasty gossip, but she was preferable to Grandfather in that Rey could choke her out in a fight.

There came a buzz from the door which drew Rey out of her thoughts. She switched off the Holonet program she was pretending to watch. A stiff voice came over the speakers: “Good evening, Lady Reyalina. This is General Armitage Hux. I’ve come to perhaps invite you to dinner.”

The girl winced. She hated hearing her full name said out loud. Her friends called her Rey, and everyone else either called her Lady or Mistress. The very confused would call her princess or empress, and the most grueling events — usually with an audience of family or an entire planet — would entail the use of her full name and titles. She wanted to say no, but beside her, Benjamin had frowned briefly down at his book at the sound of the General’s voice. Therein lay the entertainment for the evening.

Rey slid off of the bed and brushed a hand across the warm shelf of Benjamin’s shoulder. He raised his eyes long enough to see her pull her lovely hair into a couple neat buns, before she answered the door. The General’s bright green eyes alighted in his pale face. He smiled down at her.

“Good evening,” said Rey, smiling warmly.

“Good evening,” he said a little too quickly. His eyes raised to her hair. “My apologies, did - did I catch you at an inconvenient time? Again, my ship does not receive very many honored guests asides from the Supreme Leader Snoke.” His face flushed. He tucked his gloved hands behind his back.

“Not at all,” said Rey. “Dinner, you say? I guess I wouldn’t mind a little company on the way to the cafeteria...”

“The cafeteria?” General Hux scoffed. “No, no! This is an invitation to my private quarters. We can talk, entertain each other.” He smiled a thin smile and nodded his head, praising himself internally for his boldness.

“Oh!” said Rey, her hand fluttering to her chest. “I would be delighted!” She turned her head and said, “Benjamin, isn’t the General generous?”

Ben placed down his book and stood up to his full height. General Hux‘s smile flattened briefly. “Oh, he’s coming with us?” he said, his tone raising on the last word and turning it into a question. Of course, it was no question to Rey, or to Benjamin.

He loves her, very much.


	2. She thinks me a fool

“Ah, I’m sorry! Benjamin needs to test my food first, you see,” she said. “To be safe.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” insisted Armitage Hux.

The slave Benjamin ate as though it were a task to complete, in case the food were to disappear. Unfortunately for General Hux, he had planned a three course meal, beginning with a soup made of root vegetables. So because the soup came just as Armitage reached midway up the ladder to his current seat in the First Order, he was then forced to stop and witness the Lady Reyalina’s boy eat from his mistress’s bowl, then pick up his own bowl and chug down a slurry of mashed turnip.

“Oh marvelous,” she said, delight tinging her words. “That was gone in ten seconds.”

“Yes,” said Hux, blandly. “I am... amazed.” Well he did not intend for the girl to invite a friend. Hux simply needed to adapt; for now he needed to find a way to recover, to go back to talking about his career.

The Lady raised a spoon and lightly stirred her own bowl. “He could go faster, but this is an exceptionally thick soup.”

“... Oh.” Hux sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms. Because of the unexpected guest, Hux had a round table brought into his quarters. At the time, he wasn’t sure if he could have insisted that the girl sit her slave perhaps outside or in a different room. To the General’s utter dismay, the girl regarded this ‘Benjamin’ with the tender affection awarded to some slow, clumsy pet. “He loves me quite a lot,” she cooed.

He had to separate them, somehow.

“Oh!” declared Hux, “how silly of me.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, before making his way to the cabinet on the portside of his livingroom. “Would you care for a drink? Normally I enjoy a glass in the evenings.” The girl eagerly assented, so he picked an unopened bottle, uncorked it and brought it to the table, plus three glasses. Must be considerate. He poured a measure for himself and downed it, indicating its lack of poison. “Do you drink?”

She looked at him with those eyes and made a pinching motion with her delicate fingers, indicating how much drink she would like in her glass. Goodness, he stumbled inviting her to dinner, but he really preferred those cute buns in her hair than the braids. The buns made her look like a little peasant girl than some icy princess. He tipped the bottle into her glass and overpoured, mumbling ‘Whoopsies’.

“Oh... that’s okay,” she murmured politely. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. “Thank you, General Hux.”

He smiled indulgently, then moved to pour for himself and the slave. It was then that he’d noticed the man was staring at him, outright. He was unusually ugly, with thick features that slanted in one direction, and a sort of vacuous emptiness to his face. The way a dumb animal would look at you. An expression disconcerting on a human being. Internally, Hux debated about what was happening at this very moment, what would happen if this man were to suddenly go feral and leap across the table.

Then, the door slid open, and a serving droid zoomed inside carrying the second course in its three arms. Hux took a long drink to calm his nerves, while the girl admired their dinner and the boy proceeded to choke himself on it. Nothing to fear, everything was under control.

The wine had its way with her. It had a sweet, mild taste and reacted slowly. This was the way in which the General guaranteed a perfect end to an evening with these Imperial daughters, who would normally consider themselves too good for him. Reyalina would be the crown jewel: the Emperor’s silly little granddaughter.

The imperial composure began to dissolve through the main course. She laughed musically at his dry humor, and then ate voraciously, her appetite piqued by the alcohol in her bloodstream. One of the thin straps of her dress fell down her pale shoulder, baring her delicate collarbone to him. But she did not make a move to correct this, only pursed her lips and licked away the sauce on her mouth. By the desert course, he was quite ready, and he felt the girl-empress were, too. If only something could remove Benjamin.

Because the dessert course consisted of several separate components of mousse, ice cream, and syrup, the boy reached over and spent an inordinate amount of time tearing into his mistress’s plate. “Oh, Benjamin!” she wailed, “please don’t eat it all!”

“Could he not at least ask first?” the General agreed, sympathetically.

“He is not so good with words,” the girl said, before taking a sip of her half-filled drink. A flush colored the bridge of her nose. “He is good at... foot rubs, and breaking things, but not words.”

“Rey... Would you prefer it if I called you Rey, dearest? I notice that he has that collar around his throat, is it...” The girl did not answer; she took a spoonful to her dessert and closed her eyes. “Is it completely safe to have him around you? Let alone necessary? I promise no harm will come to you aboard my ship.”

At this point, the brute had noticed that he was the object of discussion. The dessert had not been substantial enough to distract him for long, and now he held that empty expression upon his face.

His mistress’s brow furrowed, thoughts stalling. “Benjamin is safe,” she said slowly, her tongue thick in her mouth. “He-“ a giggle interrupted her words “- he loves me,” she coos.

Hux said, “I see. Then why the collar? If he is meant to protect you, surely the collar would only hinder him?” He began to realize there was actually something strange here, some Sith mind game.

“Benjamin is safe,” she insisted slowly, as if telling herself. “Grampa would not‘ve given him if he were not.” She nodded, mouth full.

“... The Emperor gave a slave to you?” Hux repeated. His gloved hand touched his chin. His eyes flickered to the topic in question, staring at both of them. “Why?” The girl swayed in her seat, enjoying herself. “Who is he?”

She smiled alluringly, and placed a finger to her lips. She leaned over, revealing the inside of her dress — the v between her breasts. The General’s face heated, and he leaned towards her. Her breath smelled bitter and sweet, as she whispered in his ear.

General Hux sat back in his seat. He looked at the ugly, asymmetrical man staring at them both. Dark eyes, thick lips, a mop of hair. General Hux could’ve laughed, at this very moment, if he were a man of different reserve. Instead, he couldn’t stop smiling. He needed to tell someone else — Captain Phasma would certainly enjoy this.

Just then, the brute shoved at the table and made all the fine dishes clatter and wobble. Benjamin, the grandson of the fool Darth Vader, stood up and stormed off, abandoning his mistress without her permission. General Hux internally cheered on the poor man.

Beside Armitage Hux, the sweet girl parted her lips, and gave a calamitous yawn. “M’sleepy,” she purred, her eyes glistening at the corners.

“I can see that,” he said, smiling. She wanted this; she clearly wanted this, the naughty thing. He stood up to stack the plates, and to collect his glasses and the bottle. “Thank you for the lovely evening, dearest. I must confess, I don’t want it to end.” He deposited his belongings into the cabinet and locked it shut behind him, before turning to the girl.

Her head was raised. “Benjamin?” she said aloud. “Benjamin, where’d you go?”

Armitage Hux cooed. He stepped behind her and placed his gloved hands on her shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her skin, even with the leather separating them. She tensed beneath his touch. “Don’t... don’t touch me,” she said, her voice small.

He pressed a thumb into the line that ran down her nape to her back until he felt a click, making her whimper. Her head swayed, and he lowered his head to kiss the neck that she exposed to him. She smelled quite nice; he near lurched on his feet. She’d make quite a lovely Empress, if that were ever to happen. His head buzzed he was so excited,

“Sleepy,” she murmured.

“I know, my dearest.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Let’s get you to bed.” He slipped a hand beneath her armpit and stood her up against his body, measuring the girl up to himself, admiring her.

She raised her half-lidded eyes to his, tears glistening at the end of her eyelashes. She straightened as she found momentary footing, and

Exhaustion set upon him, a weight upon his body. The room spun. “Oh,” he said.

— _You drank more than you realized._

“Forgive me, I think I must’ve imbibed more than I realized,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut,

— _I think I’ll go to bed, now._

“I should... I should really be getting to bed,” said Armitage Hux, nodding. He turned and did just that.

“Benjamin?” she wobbled on new legs, clinging onto the wall for support. “Benjamin?” she said, sniffling. “Where are you?”

“Are you mad at me?” she asked. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry.”

She could walk no longer; it hurt her head and everything before her eyes was absorbed in darkness. She found someplace soft to rest, and hoped that Benjamin would find her, soon.


	3. Idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ye

A sputtering breath. Eyes flashed open. From the trip-wire tension of her spine and her neck, she realized she’d just escaped a nightmare. 

Limbs frozen. For the moment, she allowed her heart to race, until with slow, even breaths, she could rein it in. Her pajamas, drenched with sweat, clung to her body like a second skin. Slowly she came into consciousness beginning with her sense of surroundings and going inwards. The Force seeped into her and told her where she was, and who she was in comparison and it brought relief. Just a ship, just the little ants. 

Since she never remembered her nightmares, there was nothing to reflect on save for how hot and uncomfortable her bed was. So she huffed a sigh and sat up, ready to face the duties of Reyalina Palpatine.

On this day, she would be eighteen years old. She was not a girl, but a woman.

There was a snort beside her. Rey turned her head and looked down. At her bedside lay a very long man curled on his side, also in pajamas. He had taken a spare pillow, which he sandwiched between his head and his arm, so that the Force-suppressor around his neck could have some support. After a few moments, the snoring resumed.

Rey smiled. It was the rarest of mornings where Benjamin would oversleep. For that, he would most definitely have to kiss her foot, but on this day she felt magnanimous and let him rest. 

If eight years had made Rey an adult, what had eight years done to him?

Rey could remember what he was, before. He was gaunt and shadows ringed his eyes. There was the sense that he would not last long: a shuddering in the Force that emanated from things before their imminent death. He didn’t sleep, before. He had reminded Rey of the worst kind of droid, the ones that didn’t talk and didn’t think.

This new Benjamin resembled an entirely different person.

— _I took good care of you_ , Rey thought to herself, and she nodded in self-approval. She sidled herself around so that she lay on her stomach, head resting on her hands, to better admire her work. In the meantime, he snored lustily, grappling with the pillow in his sleep. His back was displayed towards her, so she could fully see the areas best benefitted from her care and generosity.

What could he be dreaming of? Such a quiet man.

... Benjamin wasn’t like the others. Most people were ants, like Hux, who were easy to read and easy to control; all she had to do was look at them and speak and the Force compelled them. Ben was not so easy.

She sometimes wondered if he were happy, or at least content to live the life he had now. The people of Spintir felt content; they were content to live under the grace of the Empire, on their beautiful blue and green planet, farming and mating and waiting for the release of death. The people of the First Order were content but in a different way; they knew their lives were short and expendable, so they reached with grasping hands towards the rung above them — even if it meant kicking another down in the process. The Light and the Dark, in miniature.

Through the Force she reached out to Ben, brushing her conscious against hers. His snoring cut short. He raised his head, and looked down at his pillow, then turned to look at her from over his broad shoulder. His sleepy eyes and his pose lend him almost a sultry look.

“Good morning,” she hummed. “What were you dreaming about..?”

He draws his feet underneath him and staggers upwards, like a shaggy newborn luggabeast. 

“Ben, wait..?” He stopped. “It’s still too early... I had a nightmare.” His back was to her. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“ _M’not tired_.” His words, when he spoke them, were soft and nasally.

“You can share my bed, Benjamin,” she said. “It’s alright. I’ll tell no-one.” His fine hands closed into fists. Something electric seethed in the air. “... I won’t hurt you,” she said. Shame coursed through her, twists inside her stomach. “... Never again. Please, Ben? I want to talk.”

A line stretched taut between them, that only sometimes Rey could see; she’d never known what it was or if Ben knew about it. But she was terrified, now, that he would reject her, and the line would snap. It hurt her fiercely whenever it did, like a ripping pain in her chest. 

At last he turned around slowly. Rey pushed herself to one side of the bed, and in deliberate, mechanical movements he crawled on hands and knees until he settled beside her. Her long hair pooled around her head as she laid herself down. Up close, she could feel his body heat, and appreciate the sheer size of him. The thick suppression collar that bound his neck manifested its own ‘presence’ in the Force, that even Rey felt: an uncomfortable prickling, a buzzing inside her head. He was in a mood after being disturbed from his sleep, so he dared to grasp his pillow from off the floor and shove it violently onto the bed so that it cushioned his neck. Then he laid on it, facing her.

Her fingers reached up to brush the surface of the collar. Ben’s breathing quickened, and he raised his head, exposing his throat. A muscle in his jaw spasmed; she raised her other hand to trace it, up to his fine ear and he made a low, uncomfortable sound. The skin on the collar came away numb, and cold, as if the metal itself deadened the nerves. The skin on his skin tingled with warmth. Rey wondered what it must feel like. To be beheaded, and yet suffer to live. She pulled away from him, before he placed his hand down protectively between the two of them, his eyes narrowed, his skin flushed. 

“You’re very grumpy today,” she remarked. “I know you don’t like Grandfather. But that isn’t an excuse to punish _me_.”

He turned and placed his back to her face.

“... Ben, I need to tell you something very important,” Rey insisted. Irritated, she snapped, “Could you please turn around and look at me? You are being very disrespectful!”

He didn’t move.

Frustrated tears came to her eyes. Ben was the only creature in her orbit who could choose not to obey her. She often joked and that he loved her, but the obedience of a slave preserves his life. Sometimes he slipped and his true self would come out. 

Benjamin Skywalker hated her, very much. She could feel it emanating off of him.

Once when she was fourteen, she had woken up early in the night, blind in the dark. She sensed him hovering over her. The urge to kill like a blade hanging over her own trembling neck. She couldn’t remember the rest of that night; she had been terrified of him for a week and pretended in vain not to show it, being a gifted Force-user and the granddaughter of Palpatine. 

Now that the terror was gone, and she was no longer fourteen but an eighteen-year-old adult, she felt not fear but a terrible grief. “... After Exegol,” she said quietly, “it will come off.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Let’s say... I’ve been wanting to visit Takodana. An old smuggling den, very chaotic. There could be a fight ensuing, knowing how good Bazine is at ingratiating herself to the locals. The rebels are very crafty, these days. And I hear you are like a messiah to them.” 

The rage subsided. As she continued, he shuffled around to face her. His expression was as she feared — vacant, blank. “I would not care too much,” she said, “were you to disappear, in the chaos.”

“You lie to me,” he said abruptly. 

Rey startled. She rubbed her hollow chest. “... I don’t-,” she began.

“You had eight years to throw me away,” he deadpanned. His eyes flickered, unfocused. “You... If you have no more use for me, you can kill me, Rey.”

“Don’t speak like that!” Rey cried in horror. 

“I would not mind, if it were you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand slowly inched forwards, fingertips brushing the tips of her hair. 

Rey couldn’t hear any more of this. She sat up. His hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist and he sat up, as well. And there was shock on his face, like he didn’t expect himself to touch her either. But he was _strong_ , and her arm inside his hand trembled and hurt. What little movements Rey could make could not dislodge him. When she order _Let me go_ , her voice ringed tinny in her own ears. 

“Let me go,” she repeated, firmer.

“Make me.” His lips twitched at her expression. “Go on, Rey. I know you can.” 

She pulled on her wrist, and the rest of him followed as he rolled on top of her. A Mando cuss word hissed out of her mouth. “Hey, _language_!” he snapped. “I taught you better than that.”

“Please get off me Benjamin,” she begged.

“Words don’t work on me,” he said. He shook his head. He lowered his face until only an inch separated them. He spoke so that his words embedded into her skin: “For eight years I have known you. Would you like to know what I think of you, what I _feel_ when your little fingers drag across my skull?” 

He said, “You were weak when I was given to you. You are _still_ weak, even now.” He said, “Remove this collar and it will mean your _death_. You are _nothing_ compared to me. The Emperor your grandfather was a _fool_ to leave me alive.” He said, “In the off chance that it _does_ happen. You will be a weak Empress. A figurehead. You will be a very expensive, Imperial _whore-_.” 

At that he flew upwards so fast that there was a dentin the ceiling when his head collided into it. With a flick of her wrist he hit the wall to the left of the bed. The ship’s gravity pull him down. For a moment, all was still. She stared at the crumpled form, before realizing that he wasn’t moving. Grandfather, and the teachers that he had retained for her, had often told her of the satisfaction that came with crushing a weaker opponent. Instead, Rey laid down and curled into a ball. She began to shake uncontrollably, until the dark washed over her once again.


	4. Exegol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be the end to Part I... and I will warn u now that this story is about reversals :>

On arrival at Exegol, General Hux picked himself off of the floor of his bedroom and wiped the spittle from his mouth. Wholly recovered, he was fit to send for the honored guests and bid them farewell.

The Empress-to-be had changed into a black dress that flowed down from her collarbone. Her hair was done in a long, dark braid down her naked back. Benjamin was also there. Whatever shenanigans he’d gotten himself into last night had gifted him with a limp: the slave did not like standing too long on his left leg. The Force worked in mysterious ways.

The girl approached the General with a beatific smile. “General Hux, I must _thank_ you for the hospitality which you’ve shown aboard this ship, and the briefness of this journey.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, feigning bashfulness. So she did not remember last night, either. Both of them had imbibed too much, fortunately. The bay doors slid open. Phasma made a fashionable entrance, flanked by Stormtroopers who would see the girl off to Exegol. “I must confess, I regret that aforementioned briefness. I would’ve wished to speak to you longer.”

“‘Speak’?” At this the girl frowned, she tilted her head, and turned to Ben. “Hm. No, i wouldn’t say that that was my favorite part. That would be the food; I’d thank the kitchen droids for that.”

“O-Oh?”

“And the drinks,” she said, nodding. Her eyes met Hux’s. Hux felt his mouth dry, and his thoughts whir, except he was fast to adapt. He too had drunk too much last night, and — his throat closed. A choking sound spewed from his mouth. His hands tore at his throat, and passed through the ghostly hands wrapped around his neck. His eyes flickered to Phasma but only her helmet stared back, as still as a statue. At least the Stormtroopers behind her swayed and turned to each other, like his choking could be vaguely concerning. The girl Sith began smiling, and turned to the man Ben to say something but Hux could hear only the blood rushing in his ears. Ben was smiling as well. 

The General’s legs failed beneath him, left, then right. Spots appeared in his vision and then his vision began to fade

And air rushed into his throat. A sucking gasp. He coughed, vision returning, staring at his blue hands on the metal floor. He felt cold all over. After a few minutes, he could push himself off the floor.

It was best that this ended. It was best that they go.

x

Beneath a dusty, electric atmosphere, Exegol spread before them. 

This was where Grandfather lived, where Rey was made to visit every birthday. It was a place of rocks and sand and darkness. Of ‘flora’, there were silica trees that shattered like glass should you hit them too hard. Mother said not to destroy these, because these were the only remaining remnants of life on Exegol. 

Exegol was barren, but not devoid of life. Colonies of Sith loyalists lived on the surface and dug vast trenches searching for an ancient Sith artifact. These were a strange, quiet people. They religiously worshipped the Emperor and tended to his personal needs. They wore dark clothes to protect their pale skin, which never saw the light of the sun. All were slender with unusually large heads; it was unclear to Rey what they ate, because nothing grew in this wasteland. 

A couple of them stood on the surface to receive the Empress-to-be, and guide her to the throne. This time, though, among them was a young man. He had longish, strawberry blonde hair with a prominent widow’s peak. On his face he wore an easy, teasing smile without the smugness of the General. He wore the clothing of Exegol, but Rey could see that his body better filled out the dark robes. His facial features looked familiar to Rey, but she could not place where.

“Welcome home,” he said in a friendly way. He extended his bare hand out to her, but Rey didn’t take it. “No?” His fingers closed. “I suppose you’re tired of strangers kissing your hand, hm?” he said, eyes crinkling in amusement. Rey couldn’t read his age, but he couldn’t be much older than her.

Rey touched the Force but could only sense the overwhelming Darkness of the planet itself. The boy himself felt grey in comparison. Who could this be? she wondered. An Imperial friend of grandfather?

“If this is Rey, then the tall one must be Benjamin!” the boy exclaimed.

At this, Benjamin paled. He stepped backwards and stumbled on his bad leg, shifting his hold on the wayfinder.

“Is his leg alright?” the boy asked. He looked to Rey, his brows furrowed in concern. “Will he be okay to walk? Grandfather is only a short walk away, but he could wait while we fetch some sort of vehicle...”

_Grandfather_? “No, that’s quite alright.” Had he said _Grandfather_? Rey’s mind whirled with the implications, that she could barely focus on maintaining a polite smile. Who was this boy? What was the order of ascension, and why had she never heard of him before? No, he must have some form of family on Exegol. Imperialists and Siths would sometimes visit the seat of the Emperor to gain some insight on the Dark side of the Force or some hope of political favor. 

As they walked, the boy provided light conversation about his schooling on Naboo, which helped to calm Rey’s heart. Benjamin trailed behind them, hemmed in by silent Exegolists. He clutched the wayfinder to his chest.

Benjamin turned his head this way and that, at the vast darkness of over the land like a great pall. His large eyes went wide and unblinking. In previous visits he would trail closely behind her, but this time he was injured. This time, Rey did not care whether or not he stumbled and fell, or if he hurt or if he was mortally frightened. Someday she would come to Exegol alone and this would be her seat of power, as a Palpatine and a Sith. 

On that massive throne carved from the stone of the planet, sat her Grandfather. His red eyes glimmered in the depths of his hood. It seemed he had not move at all since the last year that he met her, and the year before that. Rey glanced around and looked for her Mother and Father; she had hoped to see them, but they were not there. Her insides sank, but outwardly she sought to hide her disappointment. She bowed her head graciously to her Grandfather, the Emperor Palpatine. But she had wished to see her parents’ faces at least, to see if they were well.

At last, the Emperor opened his lipless mouth. “ _Sheev_ ,” he said in a voice like coarse sand, “did you enjoy the company of the girl?”

“I can’t say,” said the boy cheerfully. “We did not get much time at all. As you said, she’s very _quiet_.”

She raised her head, astounded. The boy ‘Sheev’ stood on the steps beside the throne, gazing up at the Emperor with a cocked head. There was something there, at the way they smiled — except, Imperials sometimes named their children after the Emperor. Except, if that were the case he would at least bow to the throne. Where was Mother and Father? 

Rey thought to her gentle, demure father and the way he cowered in the presence of the Emperor, his father. She wondered if this man could’ve been unfaithful to her mother, if he could have kept a secret son. It would show a greater capacity for Darkness than he had ever shown before. It didn’t make sense.

“Granddaughter,” said the old Sith, “I sense that something troubles you. Rise, and disclose it.”

She did as she was told, fingers twisting in the thin fabric over her abdomen. “Grandfather. It is good to see that you are well, but — this — man, over there —.”

“Sheev,” said Grandfather, smiling like the boy.

“... _Sheev_. He seems, acts, in a way that implies that he’s familiar to us?” Her tone raised on the last word and turned it into a plaintive question. — _I don’t know who he is_ , she said, wordlessly. The long braid down her back felt like a chain; even looking up at the throne made her neck feel stiff.

“Sheev is a close friend,” said Grandfather, his tone indulgent. “Now that you are of age, I hoped you would become close to him. He would be a good friend to you, too.” Sheev dipped his head in agreement.

Relief fell over her. It sounded to her that Grandfather was giving her another gift of a human being, only this time the gift would be more willing. Rey glanced over at Sheev, at his boyish face with its permanent smile and the prominent widow’s peak in the shape of a V. She wondered what Sheev could offer him, when compared to Benjamin. “Thank you, Grandfather,” she said, dipping her head. 

“Wait a moment, Rey,” he said, raising a withered hand. “Before this happy union, there is one... condition, that we both have.” Sheev nodded his head. Rey listened intently. “You are a woman grown. The time of childcare is over.”

Her brow furrowed. _Oh_ , she mouthed.

“It is time,” he said, “to release _him_.” Grandfather raised a withered, corpse-pale finger, and pointed down where Benjamin stood, standing towards his right leg.

For a moment Rey could not speak. She turned her head to look behind her, and saw Benjamin looking back at her. His eyes were dark, his jaw slack. He looked as lost and forlorn as when they first met eight years ago.

Grandfather was still speaking, “he has proven himself to be inferior to the apprentice that I’ve lost.” He lowered his head, sounding almost sad. “It is time to end his farce of a life and begin yours, granddaughter. Kill him.”

Rey stood there and did not move.

“Do it,” he urged. “Kill him. Do it _now_.”

The sight of the throne, of Grandfather, of Sheev all blended together in a mix that stung her eyes. The only thing clear to her was Benjamin’s face. His fine lips moved but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Grandfather’s tone grew clipped; “You test my patience, _girl_. Had he not the collar, you would be stripped and gutted where you stand.” Disappointment, disgust dripped from his voice. 

His hands fell and gripped the armrests of the throne, and the stone cracked beneath his fingers. “You cannot do it, can you?” 

Rey dipped her head, her eyes burning with tears. It should not have come to this. This was not what her life was supposed to lead up to.

“Ridiculous,” huffed a high and clear voice. Sheev. “You’re too tough on the girl. She has not the strength that you or I have. Allow _me_ , Grandfather.”

Rey felt the tug in the Force of another user. Benjamin jolted like a puppet yanked by its strings. The wayfinder fell from his hands. Like breathing, Rey struck back through the Force and the boy yelped like a small animal, before tripping and falling flat on his back. Her hand fell to the handle of her lightsaber — she would kill him, she would rend him in half —

Light filled her senses. Then pain. Her knees failed beneath her. She was not sure where it began or where it ended every twitch and spasm every nerve returned a shock of pain. A world away a hand brushed against her bare shoulder and she screamed. 

His face swam before her eyes. 

_I have you_ , he said. He placed his hands against her cheeks and caused her unimaginable, blinding pain, but she couldn’t tear herself away she wasn’t strong enough. Crying spasming she begged and screamed wordlessly for him to let go but he didn’t hear or listen or obey. 

After a thousand years the pain receded. Her flesh became something deadened, something numb and cold. She could feel the ragged stinging breaths she pulled into her throat. He pressed his forehead to hers, then his lips to hers. 

_I have you_ , he said. _I have you_.


End file.
